Historical Fiction

Death of the Queen - Act II, Scene 1
ACT II. SCENE I. Sir Francis Bacon sits on the porch of his home and writes upon a stack of parchment. A servant announces the Baron Burghley and he enters. Francis rises and bows.
By John Cox2 years ago in Chapters
He's not dead! The prototype of the heroic son Wang Cheng is still alive and has been hiding for decades, and the reason is tear jerking
But many people don't know that the prototype of Wang Cheng is still alive today! Because he almost never mentioned his time during the Korean War, went incognito for decades, and even his wife and children didn't know about it.
By KIMBERLY BAKER2 years ago in Chapters
Kia Ford Attending The English Premiere Festivities
After an international break lasting over a week, Kia Ford came back to the British scene ready to encounter whatever the English Premiere had to offer in their United Kingdom, pretty confident about how things were proceeding the American seemed satisfied with her table placement.
By Marc OBrien2 years ago in Chapters
Quest for the Lost City:ch2
Certainly! Thus, a high entropic and bursty adventure story titled The Quest for the Lost City: --- Chapter 1: The Whispers of Araquara
By Siko m2 years ago in Chapters
Quest for the Lost City: ch1
Historical Myths and Legends The concept of a lost city has captivated the human imagination for centuries, often steeped in myths and legends that have transcended generations. Ancient narratives describe cities brimming with gold and unfathomable wealth, existing in realms unreachable by the modern world. From the Inca legend of Paititi, a city said to be hidden within the heart of the Amazon, to Atlantis, detailed by Plato as a highly advanced civilization that vanished into the ocean, these tales have been the cornerstone of countless expeditions.
By Siko m2 years ago in Chapters
Morality. AI-Generated.
As it happens I am in Death Valley, in a room at the Enterprise Motel and Trailer Park, and it is July, and it is hot. In fact it is 119°. I cannot seem to make the air conditioner work, but there is a small refrigerator, and I can wrap ice cubes in a towel and hold them against the small of my back. With the help of the ice cubes I have been trying to think, because The American Scholar asked me to, in some abstract way about “morality,” a word I distrust more every day, but my mind veers inflexibly toward the particular.
By Someone2 years ago in Chapters
The Fall
In the beginning, there was naught but the heavens and the earth, and He that had created them. A vast and dismal plane ebbed of all color and life. The universe, an ocean of dreary, motionless tenebrosity spread thin across the expanse, like a pitch veil over a mirror, stands still as time has yet to awaken. All that exists is the spirit of Him. A ghastly ripple of brilliant light that glides across the ashen plane of existence, unimpeded and faster than time can account for. It hovers above the cold and soulless world like an artist deciding where his first stroke would fall upon an empty canvas. The darkness of the universe pulsates as this one ember of light sparks from the spirit. Another sparks off of the specter's being this time falling into the waters of the void. Like a stone in a pond, the ember ripples across all of existence in brilliant splendor. It spreads like flurries of snow alight with energy and color. The particles bounced infinitely from one edge of the cosmos to the other revealing what hid in the darkness. What was once grey and insipid, now glows with luminance and spirit. First was light, to see the things that are hidden. The spirit takes the form of a lustrous orb of light and surveys the empty world before it. There it stayed, light emanating from its being and pushing the void into the recesses of the cosmos.
By Paul S. O. N.2 years ago in Chapters
The Death of the Queen - Act I, Scene I. Top Story - October 2024.
When I taught in the English department at the Naval Academy, my office was across the hall from a professor who specialized in Elizabethan and Jacobean era literature and music. Every summer break she would spend happily ensconced in the Parker Library medieval manuscript collection at the Corpus Christi College in Cambridge.
By John Cox2 years ago in Chapters
From Dream to Empire
The City’s Pulse Alex Carter gazed out from his tiny apartment window, his eyes tracing the illuminated skyline of the bustling city below. The city's vibrant pulse, with its sea of lights and the distant hum of activity, seemed both exhilarating and overwhelming. His apartment was modest—crammed with a small desk, an old, worn-out couch, and walls adorned with his sketches and design inspirations. The cluttered yet creative space spoke volumes about his passion for design and his desire for something more.
By Someone2 years ago in Chapters
The Unfathomable Dance of Existence
How unfathomable is the beauty of existence! Every roadblock, every rejection, every end and every not so plausible moment is the beginning of something new, some beautiful reality that can turn every bitter ounce of mortality into an insightful lesson learned,
By Hridya Sharma2 years ago in Chapters
Ruhdaari- The light of the soul
The Light of Hope To be the muse or to be the one who beholds the musings, To laugh in adversities or to be the one who stands tall beyond the mockings.
By Hridya Sharma2 years ago in Chapters
Kia Ford Attending The English Premiere Festivities
Taking five on the patio, the honorable loyal peacock discovered bushes rumbling. Rising from the lounge chair noticing an intriguing figure emerge, holding an ale cup. “What are you?” The promotional character questioned.
By Marc OBrien2 years ago in Chapters